


Panacea Fractus

by remi_wolf



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (Slightly), Discussion of Death, Hallucinations, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It/Its Pronouns For Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Other, Terminal Illnesses, Whump, Whumptober 2020, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27057451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remi_wolf/pseuds/remi_wolf
Summary: Gerry's headaches are growing worse by the day. Day by day as he tries to travel with Gertrude, he knows that he's getting worse, and today is the worst. Even Gertrude sees past his bluster, telling him to get some rest in the hotel room. As much as he hates disappointing her, he knows that he's unlikely to be able to move. At least a guest seems to come visit, helping to chase away the worst of his pain.Whumptober Day 16: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Prompt: Hallucinations.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: Beguilements and Distractions, Remi's Whumptober Collection for 2020, Whumptober 2020





	Panacea Fractus

Gerry’s head ached. It ached and hurt and he didn’t know what to do to get it to stop as he curled up in the grimy hotel room. Gertrude was off somewhere, had taken one look at him and refused to allow him to come with her, and now he was curled up in the room, entirely alone, and desperately wishing that he could somehow manage to turn the light off, if only to keep himself from ripping his eyes out from how much the light pained him. 

“Don’t you look a _dreadful_ sight, little Assistant.” 

Gerry couldn’t help the quiet groan as he heard the voice that grated against his skull, trying not to entirely fall apart. Years and years of hearing that voice, and he wasn’t about to fall apart now. He’d hate to disappoint Michael by falling apart just from the sound of its voice.

“I’m not an assistant,” Gerry murmured softly, finally looking up at the monster beside him, trying not to let his stomach empty itself at the shifting twisting spiraling shapes and colors of Michael. He couldn’t manage to look at it for long, closing his eyes against the pain of the monster in front of him. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t manage it, not today, though he reached out a hand towards it. It might hurt to look at, but that didn’t mean that he’d want to entirely ignore it and keep it away from him.

“Oh, you are doing poorly, aren’t you?” Michael’s voice almost took on a softer tone, less like nails against slate chalkboards and more akin to glass shattering, but at least it was something. 

Gerry couldn’t manage much beyond a whine, even if he had wanted to respond, and he continued to blindly reach out for the other before sighing and dropping his hand to the bed. Apparently he wouldn’t get to have his hand held through the worst of the pain. Michael normally did, so...he must be doing horribly if it didn’t want to even touch him. He curled up tighter, wincing as another round of pain racking his head, and he whimpered softly. 

Michael cooed quietly, the sound next to his ear before Gerry felt the ghost of a touch against his cheek, though it remained light as ever as he tried to lean into it.

“Please, just a little touch,” Gerry murmured, words painfully slurred as he tried to get some sort of affectionate touch. It would help, or it would help ease the pain, something like that, but Michael’s hand instead pulled away after a moment. 

“No, I don’t think I will. Have you had anything to eat? Or drink? Has that deplorable Archivist not been taking care of you?”

Gerry sighed softly, opening his eyes to Michael again, relaxing slightly as he realized that it wasn’t shifting nearly as much as it had been the last time he opened his eyes, and he simply let himself look at it and its bright yellow eyes, full of wet concern for him. “She’s busy with other things. She really doesn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else. We’re still no closer to the Unknowing.” It wouldn’t do much to help reassure Michael, but at least he wouldn’t have to admit that he lied to it.

Michael laughed softly, though it sounded far more bitter than his usual gleeful laugh, and Gerry sighed as he reached up to brush a touch against its cheek. At the last second, though, it pulled away, spinning and walking over to the shitty little coffee machine and collecting one of the cups there. “She needs to take care of her assistants. Or else she’ll realize that she’s alone, and no Archivist should be alone,” Michael said, voice singing its song throughout, though in a far more dissonant, minor key than it usually ever was. 

Gerry wasn’t sure he liked the sound of it, but it was better than nothing, and he supposed the concern was touching. He accepted the glass of water that Michael offered him, sipping at the sweet-cool-hot-bitter liquid inside before setting the cup down beside him. That helped, at least. His headache wasn’t quite so bad, and he laid back on the bed, not quite so tightly curled as he had been a few moments beforehand. “I’m really bad, aren’t I?”

“You’re always bad to me,” Michael said, laughing as it sat down, its weight not moving the mattress at all, and Gerry huffed a quiet laugh as he curled around Michael, careful not to touch it. He knew the rules for this exchange already, though he wasn’t sure how Michael had gotten here, considering he had yet to see the familiar yellow door he had contemplated walking through so many times before. 

“But worse than usual.”

Michael hummed, a quiet sound of static and crushed glass, and Gerry sighed softly. He wasn’t good. He was curious whether this was dying or not, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to curl up against Michael, with Michael and hidden away within the Hallways that made no sense in the way that comforted more than confused him anymore, even if he had yet to properly make his way through them. 

Maybe Michael would let him die that way, instead of slowly and painfully in a hotel room or in a hospital somewhere. 

“Sleep, my sweet. I’ll be here.”

Gerry huffed a quiet laugh, but his head was already feeling better as he curled up close to Michael. “Sleeping’s boring. Rather help you carve fractals into the walls..." There wasn’t much he could do to argue, though, not as he was already slipping to sleep with Michael’s headache-inducing laugh lulling him there. 

* * *

“Gerry.”

Gerry groaned quietly, opening his eyes as he watched as Gertrude stood over him. No Michael to be seen. Of course. He shifted, reaching out for the water that Michael had given him, trying to wet his dry throat a little bit before sighing. No water, and no glass to be seen at all. Delightful. 

“Do I need to be worried about you, Gerry?”

Gerry shook his head, forcing himself to sit up as he ran a hand through his hair. “Of course not. I’m perfectly fine, ma’am.” He forced a bit of a grin on his face before looking back at her. Perfectly fine. Of course he was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Was Michael actually there? Was it all a hallucination in Gerry's head? Is there a difference as far as the Spiral's concerned? Who knows! Will Gerry get to a hospital in time? Will he end up as a Spiral Avatar? Will he follow the footsteps of his canon counterpart? Who knows! I hope you enjoyed this, and comments are always welcome!


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